Call On the Nightside
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: Dean confesses what he did in Hell. He's sure Sam must think him a monster. Dean couldn't be further from the truth. Sam knows he will never get Dean to tell him what happened so he goes to the Nightside to see everything for himself. *X-over*
1. Prologue

**Setting:** Just after 'Family Remains.'

**Disclaimer:** Buckets of angst ahead, so beware!!! Protective/Angsty!Sammy, Depressed/Angsty!Dean. This is an AU. Both Ellen and Ash escaped the fire at the Roadhouse.

**Additional Disclaimer:** The boys, Bobby, Ash, Ellen, and the the Nightside and its inhabitants, including John Taylor, are not mine. I own the idea for this story and though I WISH I was making a profit for my writing, unfortunately I am not at the moment...although if Kripke calls, I'm totally there!!! Kripke and company own all rights to Supernatural and Simon R. Green owns all rights to the Nightside and its inhabitants. Everybody else but me has rights to all my favorite toys, damn them…

**Warning:** If you haven't read any of Simon R. Green's Nightside series, aka the John Taylor chronicles, then some of this might not be as clear for you. It will still be an enjoyable story, but I do HIGHLY recommend reading the series as it will clarify this story for you and well, it's just a TOTALLY AWESOME series to begin with!!!

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**Call On the Nightside **

**Prologue**

_"You can't tell him…you take a shot at me, whatever you gotta do, but please don't tell him…"he said as his broken, trembling voice gave out._

_Bobby stared heartbrokenly at the boy, clutching his chin, wishing for all the world to simultaneously throttle some sense into him and grab him tight and try to get him to feel how important and worthwhile he was. He wouldn't get the chance, though. A noise hit them both, a rattle of the chain-length fence nearby to them. They both dropped into full hunter mode, putting on hold their conversation for a later date. The sound of a thud then footsteps heading in their direction made them crouch and without the need to speak, they silently agreed to double team whatever was coming their way. A shadow preceded the approaching figure and then they pounced…_

_"Ellen!?!...Oh God…Ellen…" Dean murmured as he pulled her close, thankful she'd made it out alive as Bobby looked on, double-checking to see if she'd been followed, his breath coming out in ragged pants due to the adrenaline flooding his system._

_"We better shag ass inside…who the hell knows what else or who else could be out here…" Bobby said, dragging them both back toward the house_

……………………………………….+**Inside**+…………………………………………………

_"Ellen, what happened? How'd you get out?" Dean asked, concern and suspicion vying for the lead in his voice._

_"I wasn't supposed to…I was supposed to be in there with everybody else…but we ran outta pretzels…of all things…it was just dumb luck…anyway, that's when Ash called, panic in his voice, told me to look in the safe…that's when the call cut out…By the time I got back, the flames were sky high. Everybody was dead…I couldn't have been gone more then 15 minutes."_

_"I'm sorry Ellen." Sam said quietly._

_"Lotta good people died in there…and I got ta live, lucky me…_

…………………………………………+**Later**+…………………………………………………

_"Something ain't right…" Bobby said as he approached the door to his house. He cocked and raised the shotgun that had been hanging in a loose grip at his side. There was a dim light shining from his study. He knew damn well he had turned the lights off when they left._

_The brothers Winchester looked at each other and then back at Ellen then pulled their guns from where they were tucked under the backs of the of their shirts and removed the safety, keeping the guns pointed down until they had something to level them at. Their father had told them over and over again "Don't point a gun at something you ain't aiming to kill…" and that was a lesson they had almost learned the hard way, so they heeded the advice to this day. Bobby turned the old brass knob slowly, a low groan sounded out as he shoved the door open. He nodded to the boys and they crept stealthily inside and took up position against the wall on either side. Ellen slipped in and took over Dean's position as Dean moved further in and then Bobby crept in and made for the wall outside the opening off his den. Bobby looked at every one, silently communicating he was going in. They nodded their readiness and he swiftly swung around the corner and peered inside._

_"What in the hell?..." Bobby whispered, frowning. Their was a figure curled up on the couch, back to the door. Bobby would recognize the almost painfully thin man anywhere…but it couldn't be…he was supposed to be dead…_

_"Ash?..."he said in disbelief._

_Ash jerked awake, sitting bolt upright and turning to face the older hunter that was leveling a shotgun at him._

_As soon as the boys and Ellen heard Bobby utter the name Ash, they surged forward in disbelief, crowding around behind him in the doorway._

_"Hey dudes…what's with the hardware?" Ash said, his hands raised in front of him in the universal placating/I-mean-you-no-harm position._

_Ellen pushed her way through the men in the doorway and bolted to the couch, grabbing the boy up in a fierce hug._

_"Oh…Ash, hun…I thought you were dead, sweetie…"she whispered. Ash hugged her back just as fiercely._

_"Yeah, I thought I was a goner, too…when the call dropped out, I knew some big-bad was comin' so I bolted through the bar, hollerin' for everybody to run, but I was too late…I bolted into the cellar, crawled out the window, and ran for my life. Not even a minute later, I heard the boom of the explosion and saw the flames shoot up in the sky, but I didn't dare stop or stick around…I hitched my way here after I couldn't get Bobby on the phone when I tried calling him from a pay phone. No one was around so I let myself in and waited…Sorry about that Bobby…" Ash said, a sheepish, lopsided grin wavering on his lips._

_Bobby didn't lower the gun right yet. He shifted the rifle to one hand and pulled a flask of Holy water out of his inner pocket._

_"Here, Ellen…you know the drill…" he said as he tossed the flask to Ellen._

_"Bobby, is this really necessary?..." she started to say, but then decided that you could never be too careful._

_"Ash, honey, I need you to take a swig of this for me…" she said as she handed the flask to Ash._

_Ash rolled his eyes then slammed the bottle back, taking a hearty chug. He frowned, handing the silver flask back._

_"Damn, I thought you were givin' me a shot a whiskey…speaking of booze, you got any beer, Bobby? I didn't see any in the fridge…" Ash said with a cocky smirk._

_Dean and Sam snorted, chuckling warmly as they finally tucked their guns away. They strode forward to meet the mildly crazy but brilliant young man. Dean held out his hand to shake Ash's but was caught off guard when Ash tugged him into a tight hug. Dean was speechless for a moment then his discomfort manifested in a pale red tinge on his cheeks._

_"Dude! I was afraid whatever hit Ellen's had got you dudes too." Ash said._

_"Uh,…hey man…no…uh, we dodged the bullet, I guess…" Dean stuttered out._

_Ash finally let go and backed away. Dean coughed slightly and backed up another step as well. Sam grinned at Dean's discomfort, knowing his brother had never really been comfortable with physical affection. He stepped forward and shook Ash's hands, not even fazed when Ash's pulled him in for a hug as well. He slapped Ash's back heartily before pulling away._

_Bobby had finally relinquished his rifle, standing it up inside the door frame. Hey dragged the young man into a bear hug, muttering his apologies when Ash wheezed at his tight hold._

_"Dammit boy, gonna give an old man a heartattack…friggin' sneakin' in here! I thought you were dead, boy…Dean found that watch of yours on one of the bodies…"Bobby said._

_"Oh…Jo won that off me a while back…then she lost it to Henry Biggler, another hunter that used to come 'round. She won the night, but he had won that round, so… I never got a chance to win it back from her…" Ash said sheepishly._

_Ellen smacked him upside the back of his head. "Dammit boy, didn't I tell you not to bet against her…she could con the pants off a priest…"she said, shaking her head in exasperation._

_Dean snorted, started to laugh but turned it into a rather conspicuous cough at the last moment and refused to look Ellen in the eye when she whirled toward him glaring at him. Sam and Bobby burst out laughing at them, knowing fullwell Dean was a little afraid of Ellen._

_It felt good to forget what had gone down not even a few short hours before. After a while, though, the sobering weight of the situation they now faced brought them back to the business at hand. They all sat down, except Bobby, who went to grab a beer for everyone from his back up fridge in the basement. They stayed up long into the night, trying to work out their next move._

_Over the next year, the boys consulted with Ash and Ellen often, looking for anything they could find to break Dean's deal and for advice on how to to deal with the war they now found themselves tied up in. Unfortunately, they couldn't find a way to break Dean's deal. Dean died and went to Hell. Sam disappeared and not even Bobby could get a hold of him. They found out from Bobby about Dean's miraculous resurrection few days after he and Dean had met up with Sam again. Ellen had just finished rebuilding and reopening the Harvelle Roadhouse a few months earlier and she'd invited all of them out to see her at their earliest opportunity. With Sam and Dean running around after the seals, they stopped by when they could, but not as often as Ellen would have preferred. Bobby called her up when they needed the help of other hunters or if they thought Ash could spin a miracle on a hunt they needed help on. Ellen worried about the Winchester boys. She could see how strained their relationship was becoming and she hoped and prayed that they could snap back and recapture the strong bond they both relied on to keep going in this life. Unfortunately, true to the patented Winchester luck, things only got worse…In fact, she knew that it was going to be a cold day in Hell before the boys ever caught a break…_

**TBC….**

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**+_+_+Except from future chapters (coming soon)+_+_+…**

_"...Dean, I think Sammy boy has gone runnin' to the Nightside..." Ash said, his voice grave._

_"What's the Nightside? Is that like...a bar or something?" Dean said, confused._

_Ash's eyed widened in shock. "You've never heard of the Nightside?!? Where the hell have you been?!? You've never studied any other supernatural hotspots from around the world?"_

_"Uh...no, Sam was always the bookish type so, I figured...well he was...is...a walking encyclopedia of the weird so I just kinda let that be his thing...I was always more of the action type of guy..." Dean's rambling broke off. Ash could tell Dean was a little uncomfortable...he probably thought that since Sam was so smart that he'd never be that smart and so why bother trying to keep up...Ash shook his head sadly. He'd been on Sam's side of that situation with people he had thought of as friends back in school. In fact, he had excelled so much that he'd put too much distance between him and his friends and well, they'd stopped talking after that because they wasn't really anything left in common between them anymore...That had been one of the reasons he'd left school: the loneliness of it all. What good was it being supersmart if you had no one to talk to?...No friends, no family, nothing. It'd also been the reason he'd started drinkin': to dull the pain. Ash shook his head vigorously, trying to shake off the memories and made himself focus back on Dean._

_"Dean, man...this is bad news...the Nightside is not for the faint of heart...it's like nothing you've ever seen. In the Nightside, you can find your greatest ecstasy or salvation or your worst nightmare or your own personal Hell...It is the most fucked up place I know. Sam going there...he's looking for something, and whether or not he finds it, he's gonna be in a world of trouble there...we gotta get you there. Now. You need to get him the hell out of there before it's too late..."_

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**A/N:** Howdy!! So, yeah, the angst is coming!!! Hope you are all liking it thus far!!!

**As always, please, please, PLEASE ****Read & Review!!!**

Also, I have updated the links to my Supernatural line of jewelry I have for sale on eBay, including replicas of the **Mary Winchester Hunter's Protection** bracelet (as seen in the episode **'In the Beginning'**) and the **Dean Winchester Skull** bracelet (worn from **season 2 to present**). The links are now current so if you wish to see them, they are handily located on my **Profile**!!!!

I can also get ahold of replicas of the **Dean Winchester Protection Amulet**, if anybody is interested.

Thank you everybody for reading my work!! *hugs*


	2. Chapter 1: Even Heroes Falter

**Setting:** Just after 'Family Remains.'

**Disclaimer:** Buckets of angst ahead, so beware!!! Protective/Angsty!Sammy, Depressed/Angsty!Dean. This is an AU. Both Ellen and Ash escaped the fire at the Roadhouse.

**Additional Disclaimer:** The boys, Bobby, Ash, Ellen, and the the Nightside and its inhabitants, including John Taylor, are not mine. I own the idea for this story and though I WISH I was making a profit for my writing, unfortunately I am not at the moment...although if Kripke calls, I'm totally there!!! Kripke and company own all rights to Supernatural and Simon R. Green owns all rights to the Nightside and its inhabitants. Everybody else but me has rights to all my favorite toys, damn them…

**Warning:** If you haven't read any of Simon R. Green's Nightside series, aka the John Taylor chronicles, then some of this might not be as clear for you. It will still be an enjoyable story, but I do HIGHLY recommend reading the series as it will clarify this story for you and well, it's just a TOTALLY AWESOME series to begin with!!!

***(_Italics are direct quotes from the episodes_)***

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

**Even Heroes Falter...**

It had been just 2 short weeks after they had went after the supposed ghost that had killed the man inside his locked home. Two weeks since that horrible hunt that hadn't really been a hunt for them at all. It hadn't been a ghost after all. No, it had been far more twisted then they had first realized. It had been humans…just humans…or, what was left of humans when you took away all humanity from them. They had been the fraternal twin children of the daughter of the man that had been ripped up. The children that the man had fathered with his own daughter…after years of molestation at his hands, the girl had gotten pregnant by her father. Upon having the babies, she'd been unable to cope any longer and had taken her own life to escape him. The man had kept the children, treating them as little more than animals, locking them in the sub-basement, keeping them out of the light, sending food down to them through the old dumbwaiter system, never giving them proper human contact. The results had been horrific…mindless animals in human form, living by instinct and finally lashing out at their captor/father, killing him. Dean had been disgusted by the whole thing as it had proved to him once again that while demons and monsters he got, humans…humans were fucking crazy. Dean hadn't even been mad at the kids, in fact he wished with all his heart he could have saved them, saved their mother, too, from the horrible life they'd had to endure. The thing was, they were too far gone long before he'd ever been around to save them and in the end they had died because they were too broken to ever be fixed or to be whole beings. He hoped God, if he really was out there, could be merciful for them…they hadn't meant to be like they were, they were a product of how they been raised and they never knew any different.

The whole situation had bothered him. After telling Sam, seemingly so long ago, back in Concrete that he wouldn't talk about Hell, that he wouldn't tell Sam about it, well…things had been turned upside down on him once again. The whole fiasco with Samhain and the angels wanting to protect the seal by leveling the town and then Sammy using his freak powers to exorcise the demon right in front of him…From there it had gotten even worse. Anna had come into his life, a real, live Fallen Angel and he'd been stuck in the middle of Heaven and Hell duking it out over her. She had taught him forgiveness, something he'd forgotten how to give himself and in the end, he'd let his walls down, just a little bit and let Sam in. He'd told Sam about what had happened in Hell. Not everything, but enough for him to fill in the blanks. He'd told him of the _**30 years**_ of torture he'd endured, because wasn't it just his luck that time was much slower in Hell, and then that he'd not been able to hold on any longer and had finally caved into Alastair's daily offer to stop the torture if he'd take up the knife and whip himself. He'd done it, too. He'd just put away that last little piece of himself he had left…he'd let go of the tiny beacon of hope inside his heart…the one that bore the name _**Sam**_…and he'd let go of all humanity then. He tortured them, ripping into them and tearing them up in ways he never knew he'd knew how to do…He had taken out all the pain and rage and frustration and despair he'd felt for 30 years on them. All the helplessness, all the terror he'd been subjected to, he put on them. He'd grown to enjoy the pain and terror he could bring them. Relished the sobs and screams and blood he ripped out of them. He had let himself become far worse then any of the monsters him and his family had ever hunted and he had done it willingly and enjoyed what he was doing to them. **_10 years_**…for 10 years he'd been no better than a demon. Alastair had been most pleased with the way he'd thrown himself into his "work". It seemed his former tormentor had come to think of him as a protégé, as someone that could someday rival himself and he'd been quite wiling to help Dean along with learning the craft.

Initially, sitting by that roadside, the morning after Anna had gotten her grace back and had banished Alastair back to Hell and the angels had departed to look for her, Dean had only told Sam what he'd done down there. A little over a month later, after the hunt in Stratton, Nebraska that turned out not to be a hunt, he'd broken down and told Sam the part he'd keep inside, for fear that Sam would see the monster he'd become.

* * *

"_You know I felt for those sonsofbitches back there…lifelong torture turns you into something like that…_

"_You were in Hell, Dean…look…maybe you…did what you did there, but you're not them…they were barely human…"_

"_You know your right…I wasn't like them…I was worse. They were animals, Sam, defending territory…Me…I did it for the sheer pleasure…"_

"_What?"_

"_I enjoyed it Sam…they took me off the rack and I tortured souls and I liked it…all those years…all that pain…finally gettin' to deal some out yourself…I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because th-that pain I felt…it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can't change that. I can't fill this hole. Not ever._

* * *

Sam hadn't uttered a single word after that. Dean couldn't even look his little brother in the eye after telling him. His baby brother finally knew what monster he was and he just knew with all his heart that Sammy, the brother that had once idolized him…that had once regarded him with awe, thinking of him as his own personal superhero…Sammy would never see that in him ever again. He knew his brother would only ever see the monster he was now. Castiel might have raised him out of Hell… he might have put him back in his human body and made him it whole and perfect again, except for the hand-print scar where he'd seared his mark on Dean's flesh. A constant reminder of his time in Hell, set to keep it fresh in his mind every day he was awake while the memories of Hell plagued his every moment of night and rest. Castiel might have brought him back to the world, but inside…inside he was just as dark and twisted as any demon in the pit. He knew he didn't deserve to live again. He'd known he was worthless well before their dad had given up his own soul to save him. He'd come to accept the fact that he deserved death and probably Hell, being the fucked person that he was. The deal for Sam had just been the confirmation of it for him.

* * *

"_Keep your gutter soul…it's too tarnished anyway…"_

* * *

He didn't know what kind of God would want to bring him back, after the life he'd lived…the things he'd done…after the disgusting being he'd become in Hell. He knew he could never make up for what he did. He had been desperate that Sam never see that part of him, so lost at the thought that he'd lose his brother again. But this time…this time would be so much worse because Sam would leave him of his own free will. Dean knew he couldn't live without his brother. He didn't know how to live anymore. He needed his brother to show him how to be human again, to show him how to live. Sam was a better man then he ever was or ever would be. If Sam left…when Sam left…he was lost forever. The ghost of Dean Winchester that lived now…he'd just tumble away into oblivion and he wouldn't even bother stopping it from happening.

Dean lived in fear every day that today would be the day he'd wake up and find Sam gone. Or that Sam would finally snap and tell him what a monster he was and tell him everything he deserved. Dean died a little more each day, waiting for that time to come. He pulled back inside himself, barely talking, not looking Sam in the eyes, preparing himself for what was coming as best he could.

They had just finished up a hunt that night, a simple salt and burn…as if it was ever simple. They'd gotten the job done, but it had been a close call. Dean hadn't been paying as close of attention as he should have, instead dwelling on the pain-filled thoughts of what he'd do when Sam left him. He'd been standing over the grave, holding onto the salt canister as Sam dug the finally layers out. The moment Sam struck down on the casket lid, the ghost manifested. It knocked the canister out of his hand and into the open mouth of the grave, narrowly missing his little brother's head. He barely had time to cry out before the ghost knocked him head long into a headstone some 10 feet away. He saw star as his head connected with the solid stone first then the rest of his body. He lay there dazed, the lack of rest and nourishment he'd been slaving away under for the past couple of months finally catching up and it was all he could do to roll over in time to retch into the grass he lay on. He felt the warmth of blood as it trickled down the back of his head into the collar of his shirt and below. He braced himself on shaky on arms, barely hearing the resounding bang of the rock salt-filled rifle. Sam had come to his rescue, a role reversal that burned him up inside because he was supposed to be the one to protect Sammy, not the other way around.

"Dean!!!" Sam cried, stooping down beside his ill brother.

"I'm fine Sammy…finish the bitch…" Dean stuttered out.

Dean wasn't fine. He wasn't fine at all. Sam had kept his mouth shut for weeks now. He'd tried desperately to get through to his brother for months after he'd gotten him back from Hell. The man they'd brought back had been almost unrecognizable as his big brother. At first, Sam had thought it was because he was changed. That was only part of it though. Hell had changed his brother, of that he was certain. It had made him unable to raise and maintain the walls that he'd built inside himself for protection all those years ago. Sam was finally seeing the broken, terrified man his brother tried so hard to bury and hide from him all along. Dean had always made sure he was strong for his little brother. He took on punishment and hardship well beyond his capabilities all for the sake of sparing his baby brother the pain it might cause. Sam could always read his brother like an open book, though. He'd catch glimpses of all the pain and hurt his brother locked away inside, usually when the load on his big brother's shoulders was so big it was crushing him and he couldn't help but let some of it out. Even still, though, Sam hated to see his brother so broken. Sam acquiesced to his brother's request to finish the job before the woman's ghost came back to finish Dean off. He liberally coated her remains with the salt and then the lighter fluid. She was just being to coalesce when he struck the match and dropped into her grave. She gave an ear-splitting scream then flamed out of existence. Sam made his way back to his brother, who was sitting with his back to the grave marker now, a slightly dazed expression in place on his face and glassy eyes staring out at him. Sam grabbed his brother's shirt and tugged him forward, resting his forehead against his shoulder as he looked over the wound. Dean pushed weakly at him, trying to stop him from being a mother-hen, as he liked to say. Sam huffed an annoyed breath and batted his brother's hands away.

"Dammit Dean, just let me look at it! Stop being such a stubborn ass." He said as he prodded the wound are lightly, looking for skull fractures. He didn't find any, luckily, but he was going to have one hell of a bump there. He eased his brother back down leaving his hand still gently gripping the nape of Dean's neck. He rolled Dean's face to face his own and examined his brother's eyes. They were a little glassy, but the pupils were equal in size and they followed him, just slightly sluggish, when he made Dean do the follow the finger test. Dean batted at his hands again. And this time, Sam removed his own hands and stood back up.

"Told you I was fine, Sammy…" Dean said wearily.

Sam clenched his jaw, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. He wanted scream at him, grab him up and shake him and tell him he was not fine!!! Sam held himself back from doing so, though. Dean couldn't handle that right now. In fact, he was even more withdrawn and broken then Sam had ever seen him. He waited patiently as Dean tried to drag himself up. Sam held out a hand, but Dean swatted at it and grabbed the headstone to pull him up instead. If Dean saw the flash of hurt in his little brother's eyes, he didn't mention it. Dean stumbled back to the edge of the grave and grabbed at his shovel that was plunged into the dirt. The remains were smoking still, but they'd burned long enough to send off the lingering spirit, so it was time to cover their tracks and get out of dodge. Dean started shoveling the dirt haphazardly back into the grave, his slow, uneven pitches betraying how NOT fine he really was. Sam shook his head in exasperation and grabbed his shovel to move things along. Forty-five minutes later, they were patting the dirt down over the grave. It had taken them a little longer than usual, Dean's speed and accuracy not really being up to par right then, but they got it done. Sam grabbed up the supplies and shoved them in the duffel before shouldering the pack and taking Dean's shovel from him as he started toward the car. Sam purposely kept his gait slow so he could make sure was stumbling along beside him, ready to drop every thing in a second if it looked like his brother was gonna fall over. They made it back to the car, Dean trying to insist he was alright to drive, but Sam still had the keys and he made it very clear that he was not gonna let that happen. Dean slipped sulkily into the passenger seat as Sam put the supplies in the trunk. When Sam got in the car, he pushed the button on the radio so it wouldn't blare to life and aggravate the headache Dean surely had flaring to life inside his brain. Dean's eyes fluttered every now and then and Sam thought he might be slipping off to sleep, but after a few moments, they drunkenly sprung open and Dean turned slowly to look at him for a moment before dropping his gaze again.

"We gonna get going or you just gonna sit there and gawk at me all night…" he said quietly.

Sam sighed then turned the key and let the engine roar to life. He slipped it into gear and pulled out in a u-turn and made his way back to the main road. Dean was on his mind the whole way back to the motel. His brother was barely holding on anymore. Ever since he'd confessed what he'd done in Hell, he'd been pulling back, withdrawing inside, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dean wouldn't even look him in the eyes anymore. Sam thought he knew why. He was sure that Dean thought himself a monster and that Sam must think that of him as well. He couldn't be further from the truth. Sam loved his brother more than ever. He knew how bad it must have been to break his brother like they had and he knew damn well that he wouldn't have been able to hold out for a fraction of the time that Dean had. Dean had always been the strongest, most noble person he'd ever known, even if he could never see that about himself.

Sam didn't blame him for what he'd done. He'd studied enough psychology in school to understand what had happened, more than Dean ever could probably. He had been hurt, terribly and for a very long time. When he finally got the chance to stop it, when he'd finally let himself go and lashed out, he'd been able to release the pain and terror and despair inside himself by doling out the same treatment on others. Hurt people hurt other people. It was cause and effect.

All in all, though, Sam could never see his big brother as a monster. Dean had raised him, loved him, giving him anything and everything he ever wanted, even after Sam had abandoned him time and time again. He was Dean's whole life because all his life, that was all he'd ever been told that he was good for. He'd bought into that way of thinking for so long that any other life he might have had was unimaginable to him. Sam made up his mind then as he surreptitiously stole yet another glance at his wilted brother. Sam needed to know everything his brother had gone through if he was going to be able to get through to him and get him back, the real him back, not just the shell of the man he once was. He needed him, whole and sound and as annoying and loveable as ever and not only that, but the world needed him as well. Sam had no doubt in his mind that his brother was worthy of being Humanity's champion in this fight against evil. Sam knew, though, that he needed to be all he was supposed to be to do that and he wasn't right now. He needed help to come all the way back and Sam was going to step up for once and take care of his big brother like he'd always taken care of him.

When they reached the hotel room, Dean stumbled in and dropped face first on the bed farthest from the door, a habit he'd picked up since he'd been back, as opposed to his lifelong position as the first line of defense in the bed closest to the door. Sam felt another pang of sadness inside because of it. He grabbed the first-aid kit and knelt down beside his stubborn brother. He wetted the gaze with hydrogen peroxide first, dabbing gently at the wound to clean it off of any debris or dirt. He followed up with rubbing alcohol to stave off infection, then antibiotic gel and a nice bit of gauze to catch any blood that might seep out in the night. His brother had hissed when he was cleaning the wound, but had gone silent after as he finished up. When Sam leant back, Dean shifted his head around and looked at him with tired eyes.

"Done?" he croaked out.

"Yeah, dude, I'm done." Sam said with a sigh as he packed up the kit and stood up. Dean rolled over and stood up long enough to peel off his soiled clothes, leaving them there on the ground for now until he could shove them into the laundry bag. Once he was down to his boxers and t-shirt, he clambered back onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard, flicking on the TV when he'd settled himself in a semi-comfortable position. Sam had already tucked the kit away and grabbed some clean boxers and a shirt and his toiletry kit and headed for the bathroom. He slowed to a stop in front of his brother's bed.

"I'm gonna take a shower, dude. If you need anything, let me know." he said.

Dean flicked a gaze his way, effectively telling Sam he'd heard him and that it wasn't likely that he would need anything. Sam nodded and continued on his way. With Dean not taking a shower tonight, he was free to take a nice long one and use up all the hot water himself. As he was washing away the toils of the night, he was thinking of what he was going to have to do. He'd secretly grabbed a spare duffel when he'd brought his own in the night before. He would pack only the bare necessities and leave the rest here with his brother, as sort of assurance that he'd be back. He would have to leave his weapons behind, no way he could take them on a plane. He would leave his laptop behind, too, but make damn sure he wiped it of his tracks so Dean would have a hard time following him. While his brother slept, he'd have to book a flight, a place to stay and he'd have to make sure he covered it all up so that by the time Dean figured out where he was, hopefully he'd be on his way back. Sam reigned in his thoughts as he rushed to finish his shower before the now cooling water went completely cold. He stepped out and dressed and did his nightly ritual, carefully repacking his gear and then let himself out into the hotel room.

Dean was slumped slightly in his position, but his bleary eyes weren't closed yet. He was gazing in the general direction of the TV, but Sam could tell he wasn't really watching it. He was nursing a bottle of whiskey, his drink of choice as of late to put himself in dazed, deeply unconscious state to try to stem the flow of Hell-induced nightmares. Sam knew that the whiskey only helped so much and for so long and it would burn out of his brother's system enough to have him in terror-filled nightmares before morning. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, working to fight down the overwhelming emotions inside him. He could see he was losing his brother and that Dean was dying by inching in front of his very eyes. This was the reason Sam had to do what he was going to do. He had to save his brother. He had promised Dean, when he'd found out about the deal, that he was going to save him. Sam had failed and Dean had paid for it with his life, soul and most of his self and sanity. Sam silently promised Dean and whatever God was listening that he wouldn't fail him again.

Sam opened his eyes and moved on to his bed where his duffel lay open and tucked away his toiletry kit. He made another surreptitious glance in his brother's direction and then settled himself down in front of his laptop to make his reservations. He used a credit card that Dean didn't know about, one he'd made for himself while Dean was…gone, using a name he'd never normally use, one Dean wouldn't be likely to guess. Sam worked quickly, making sure to remove the evidence of his plans. He glanced over at Dean every once and a while, assuring he was ok. Dean was slumped even further on the bed when he looked up again, his eyes staying closed longer each blink. Sam stood up quietly and made his way to his brother's side. He slipped the bottle from his big brother's hand and capped it, setting it on the bedside table. Dean's eyes flickered open for a little longer this time, taking in his baby brother's face. Sam placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, applying light pressure.

"Get some sleep, Dean." he said softly.

Dean nodded, weakly batting at Sam's hand as he helped his brother down into bed. Sam tugged the covers up under his brother's chin, which earned him a brief, slightly glassy-eyed glare.

"Dude…I'm not a 5 year old. Besides, you need sleep, too. You look like shit." Dean mumbled.

Sam snorted at his brother's weak attempt at humor. "Right back attcha, jerk."

"Bitch…" Dean slurred out as he gave into the tug of unconsciousness.

Sam stood over his brother, watching his breathing pattern slow and even out. He knew it was only a matter of time before it was invaded by remembered horrors, but for now, in a deep state of sleep, his brother looked so much younger than he did when he was awake. He actually looked closer to his age, rather than the age he took on from the weight of all he undergone. Sam's heart burned, filling with sadness because he knew he was the reason his brother was so lost and broken. Sam leant down closer, placing a hand ever so lightly his brother's brow. He was slightly startled for a moment when Dean leaned into the comforting touch, but that action only served to fuel Sam on in his mission. Dean rarely accepted physical comfort, and Sam knew it was a mark of just how much Dean needed help for him to allow himself to seek it out. It was soul-crushing to see his big brother so vulnerable. He felt a tear slid down his face but he made no move to brush it away. He just wanted a few more moments of time with his brother.

"Rest, Dean. I'm gonna figure out how to make you whole again. I'm gonna save you this time, if it's the last thing I do…" Sam said in a whisper so quiet it barely reached past his own ears.

Reluctantly, Sam withdrew his hand and made his way back over to his bed. He had to get ready to go. Sam had his bag packed in no time, his movements whisper quiet so as not to wake his brother. He did a mental checklist, as he always did when he was about to embark on a mission. Once he had gone over the checklist several times, he settled himself down at the table to write a note for his brother. Sam was pretty sure that the moment his brother realized he was gone, he'd be hot on his trail, although there was a tiny, nagging voice of doubt that whispered that Dean might not want to find him. After Dean's confessions and then his behavior as of late, Sam wasn't entirely sure he would follow him, but better safe then sorry. Sam wrote quickly and silently, then slipped into his jacket and gathered up his pack. He took one last glance at his brother then turned off the small bedside lamp, tilting the room into near total darkness. Sam always made a habit of counting his steps in any room or building they were in, a trick he'd learned from their father, but one that hadn't become a habit 'til after the incident with the Daevas. From then on he'd made sure to make a layout of the space in his mind in case he was unable to rely on his sense of sight to get out of a bad situation. It had come in handy more times then he liked to be reminded of since then. He made his way smoothly to the door and opened it as quietly as possible, then slipped out into the night, shutting it tight behind him. Sam left the note in a place he was positive Dean would find it: on the windshield of the Impala, pinned in place by the wiper blade. Sam took one last glance at the closed motel door and then he set off into the night toward the bus station just over a mile away. From there he would head to the O'Hare airport in Illinois and then hop his flight to London. He was on his way to the dark heart of the city: the hidden, brutal core where the moon was 10 times too big and it was always 3am. He was heading to a place where you could find your greatest salvation or your darkest damnation. Sam was headed for the Nightside…

* * *

**A/N:** Howdy!! Yay!!! The angst has arrived!!! More to come, though, of course…

I do hope people are enjoying this thus far, but do let me know either way.

**As always, please, please, PLEASE Read & Review!!!**

Also, I have updated the links to my Supernatural line of jewelry I have for sale on eBay, including replicas of the **Mary Winchester Hunter's Protection** bracelet (as seen in the episode **'In the Beginning'**) and the **Dean Winchester Skull** bracelet (worn from **season 2 to present**). The links are now current so if you wish to see them, they are handily located on my **Profile**!!!!

I can also get a hold of replicas of the **Dean Winchester Protection Amulet**, if anybody is interested.

Thank you everybody for reading my work!! *hugs*


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